Midnight Rising
by DamonsDemon
Summary: When morality goes away, demons come out to play. Sequel to Return to Mystic Falls.
1. Two Months

The early morning dew clings to the grass, the fog rolling off the mountains carrying the fresh scent of pine and wild lilacs. Steam rises from the coffee mug clasp between my hands, mixing with the smoke rising from the end of a lit cigarette. The rocking chair beside me squeaks, beginning a rhythmic back and forth thudding against the worn wood of the deck. The sticky, sweet smell of iron overwhelms the other scents, causing my mouth to grow dry, tongue moving against forever sharpening teeth like sandpaper on wood. I fight the hunter instincts back, swallowing them down with another swallow of dark chocolate coffee, letting them out into the atmosphere as I blow cigarette smoke out my nose.

"How much longer is this going to take?"

A forest stares back at me, the edges smoldering, reigniting into a fierce red, and then once again snuffed out as the trees owner battles with himself. Chapped lips open and reopen; creating cracks in the blood that is beginning to dry around them. Trembling fingers, wipe haphazardly at a worn face, the hunter green eyes of my friend growing wide as the realization of his actions begin to wash over him. "He hasn't said."

"Well, you should ask," I answer, gently shooing my companion's hands away from his face.

"Why?"

I dip a napkin into a pool of water collected on the porch railing, using the damp paper to wipe away the dried blood, "Because, he likes you best, Stefan."

"Hardly," Stefan bats my hands away, taking the damp napkin from me as he continues to clean the dried blood from his face. "I've not totally slipped over the edge like he's been hoping. I think he's getting frustrated with me."

For two months now we've been following Klaus up and down the eastern seaboard, aiding in his attempts at finding a werewolf pack to turn into his first batch of hybrids. So far, we've had little luck. In an effort to get Stefan to flip the switch on his humanity, Klaus has been forcing him into leaving a trail of bodies; those unfortunate enough to not offer up any useful information. Stefan's been holding on, but he grows weaker every day, his thoughts constantly occupied by the guilt of his own actions. "How're you doing?"

"I'm tired," Stefan lets out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the rocking chair. "I'm holding on though."

I toss the butt of my cigarette over the porch railing, pulling my knees to my chest as I begin to rock back and forth, the sound of my chair hitting the off beats of Stefan's, "I'm sorry. For all of this."

"Hey," Damon's brother sits forward, reaching across to encase my hand in his own. Stefan's skin is warm against mine, a welcome feeling. Minus our morning talks, Stefan has been distant. He hardly sleeps, opting to pace the homes or hotel rooms we take up residence in. When I can get him into bed he's stiff and unaffectionate. "None of this is your fault, Diana. You're helping me. If it were just he and I, I would have given in a long time ago. You're keeping me strong, Di, just like you always have."

Soft green eyes meet mine, searching for some kind of comfort, a strength that I've been giving. "I'm not helping you, Stef. If I were really helping, I'd put an end to all this. I would put you on the first bus back to Elena. My complacency is just as bad as if I were forcing you to kill."

"You don't have that kind of power, Diana," Stefan answers back, running his fingers up and down my arm. I swallow hard, fighting back the urge to lean over and press my lips to his. "Klaus would sooner rip your heart out than allow you to send me home. He has to see this through."

Scoffing, I pull my arm away from Stefan's touch, tossing aside the blanket as I prepare to stand, "You have no idea what kind of power I have in this, Stefan. If you did you wouldn't keep painting me as the hero."

"Diana," the male vampire reaches out, encircling my waist with his arms as he pulls me onto his lap, the fire is back in Stefan's eyes. "You can try and paint yourself as the bad guy here, but I'm going to call bullshit every time. Our enemy isn't each other, it's Klaus."

I keep my eyes glued to Stefan's, watching as he tries to snuff out the animal inside, "Kiss me."

The words come out as a challenge, my own attempt to get Stefan to give in. He's only going to drive the knife in further if he keeps fighting it. Stefan is killing himself to hold onto the last shreds of his old life, his old loves. He's refusing to push any of the pain off onto me. Reaching up, I slide my hand along Stefan's cheek, tangling my fingers in his hair. The vampire's hand hovers over my back, his whole body shaking as he battles with himself.

Soft lips meet mine, the weight of the past two months behind them.

Snow white slides over tanned skin, muscles twitch under feather kisses; soft fabric holds a fragile world of growing affection together for just seconds longer. A thundering heartbeat, settling into a steady rhythm as shaking fingers run through tangled hair. "You're going to get me in trouble."

"And you're going to enjoy every minute of it, Stefan Salvatore," I answer back with a grin as the screen door slams shut.

"Get dressed," his accent hangs in the air, words laced with a disapproving judgment. "We're leaving."

The sky glows a vibrant red, the outline of the Tennessee farmhouse illuminated by an angry sun. Cries of pain and pleadings of mercy rise into an already violent night. A thin trail of smoke from the end of a glowing cigarette remains constant as a scorned man does his damage inside. To my right, Klaus lounges in the decaying grass, a stupid, happily content smile sits on his full lips.

"Is this his punishment for this morning?" I question, flicking more ash onto the hybrid's light blue, cotton shirt.

Klaus shakes the fabric out, rolling onto his side, "No. Those people were a liability. I just want Stefan to remember who he really is. I'm not sure your soft spot for him is helping, Diana."

"He's had his humanity off in the past when we've been sleeping together."

The man throws his arm around my shoulders, cheek resting on the top of my head, "Of course darling. You were trying to get him to flip the switch in the other direction though."

"No," I press the glowing end of my cigarette into the exposed skin of my inner elbow, enjoying the temporary pang of pain. "Unlike everyone else, I actually like ripper Stefan. He's much more fun than this overly guilty, mopey man that we're dealing with now."

Klaus nods, fingers working over the burn on my arm until it disappears, the flesh looking as it always has, smooth and perfect. "Do you miss Mystic Falls?"

"No."

Smooth, unworked hands slide along my neck, thumbs digging into my jaw as the hybrid forces me to look at him, "Then why are you pouting lovely?"

"I miss Damon." Over a hundred text messages sit on my phone, all unanswered pleas to abandon whatever plan that's been set in place, desperate attempts at calling me home, pronouncements of love and unending loyalty. Hurting Damon is the worst part of all of this. As the days stretch on I begin to wonder if the intentions that have brought me to this point are as pure as I once believed. Is carrying this out worth being apart from Damon?

Klaus glances as the house, "Is Stefan not enough. Do you need both always dearest?"

"Stefan Salvatore will never love me the way Damon does. I am Damon's world, Klaus. He worships the ground I walk on. For Stefan, I'm a pleasant distraction from real life. He'd go crawling back to Elena the first chance he got. I deserve to be worshiped."

"You could call," Klaus offers as Stefan appears in the doorway. His face and shirt are covered in blood, his hands twitching at his side.

I let out a sigh, shaking my head. Calling would only give Damon and Elena a location. The two have been working on tracking our traveling party all summer. Although they've come close, Klaus has been able to change his directory, thus avoiding discovery. "Klaus, I'm giving this two more months. If we've not found the pack I'm going home."

"Two months?"

Grabbing hold of Stefan's hand, I pull him close to me, rubbing his back until he melts into me. "Yeah. Two months, then we're leaving."


	2. False Hopes

Two months, not a text or a phone call or even a letter. She doesn't care, off gallivanting with Stefan while I'm left here to clean up the messes. Here, trying to hold not only myself but Elena together. The bubbly liquid stings as it hits the back of my throat, giving my whole body a comfortable, warm, and numb feeling. I wonder if she even thinks about me. I hope she's hurting and miserable. I hope every time she looks into Stefan's eyes she thinks of me. I hope she's safe and taken care of. Klaus better be treating her right. Stefan better be treating her like she hung every star in the damn sky. Tipping the bottle back, the last few drops hit my tongue, sizzling.

I stare at the green glass, my eyes; black and dead, staring back at me. She's destroyed me, ripped out my heart. The bottle flies across the bathroom, exploding as it makes impact with the wall. "We are out of champagne."

"Huh," my latest distraction wanders into the bathroom, shoving a back on her earring. This one's outlived the last by a grand total of twelve hours. Every time I go to kill her I remember just how much work disposing of a body is. I've not got the mental capacity to handle that right now. The blonde turns towards me, frowning as she sees the broken glass. "No, _you're _out of champagne, 'cause I don't drink in the morning."

Ignoring her jab, I twist in the tub, turning to look at the girl, "Well, would you be a dear and—"

"I think you could probably get it yourself," she interrupts. Testy this morning. I guess she's not over me calling her the wrong name last night. I was drunk. It happens to the best of us. "I'm not your slave."

Ugh, if only bodies weren't so difficult to get rid of. I could always rip her apart, burning parts of her in the fireplace. Elena is so distracted by her own heartbreak, she probably wouldn't even notice.

_Damon. _There she is. Her voice is sharp, a welcomed pain. I don't know if it's really her or some kind of love-crazed delusion I've created, but it's become something I live for. It's like Diana is still here, making sure I don't go completely over the edge. Smirking, I stand, water in the tub sloshing against the porcelain sides. Stepping out onto the tile floor, I leave puddles of water behind as I make my way into the bedroom.

"I mean, you're dripping!" The blonde calls after me as I wander into the living room.

Elena stands in the middle of the room, flipping through various papers laid out on the coffee table. It's like she's claimed this house. She feels like she belongs here like just because this is where Stefan lived she can come and go as she pleases. "Mornin'."

"Hey, I was gonna—" Her eyes grow wide as she realizes I'm naked, standing before her with no shame. Quickly, Elena spins around, eyes shielded by two layers of hands. "Oh!" She shakes her head, growing frustrated as she puts the puzzle pieces together. "You heard me. You knew I was here."

Smirking, I pull the crystal topper out of the decanter, draining the brown liquid inside. "You know, you should learn to knock. What if I was...indecent?"

Continuing to shield her eyes with one hand, Elena reaches around the couch. Eventually, her fingers curl around the blanket draped there. She picks it up, hurling it across the room in my direction.

I roll my eyes, wrapping the soft material around my waist. She's such a prude. "Okay."

Elena tentatively slides her fingers apart, dropping her hand only after she's certain I'm decent. Once she's lowered her barrier, Elena digs into her jeans pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of bright pink legal paper. "Sheriff Forbes gave us another location to check." Elena holds the sheet in my direction. "Memphis."

"Another dead end, you mean?" We've been taking these leads from the Sheriff since Stefan and Diana disappeared. I know she means well, but I wish she'd stop. They only give Elena a false sense of hope. Stefan and Diana aren't going to be found, not until Klaus wants them to be. Even then, neither one will return the same person they were when they left.

Elena frowns, "You don't know that."

"You're right, Elena," I scoff, trying to bury just how much her naivety infuriates me. "This could be the one. Yep. After two months, this could be the clue that tells us Stefan's alive and well and living in Graceland."

Determined to get through to me, Elena steps forward, paper still in hand, clinging to it as if it alone will cure her aching heart, "This could be the clue that helps you find Diana."

"If she wanted to be found she would've called. It's her thing. She likes the chase. This—" I snatch the paper out of Elena's hand, leaving behind only a torn corner in her trembling fingers "—is a sloppy newbie or a false hope."

Enraged, Elena yanks the paperback, shoving it deep into her pocket, "Fine, I'll go by myself." She stomps towards the front door, reaching for the knob.

"And let Klaus know that you're tracking him?" Elena gasps as I appear between her and the door, hand recoiling. "He thinks you're dead. Let's keep it that way."

Elena lets out a defeated sigh, taking a step backward, "It's a new lead, Damon. We haven't had one in a while."

"I'll check it out," I answer with an eye roll. "If I find anything, I'll call you."

"But—" Elena frowns, shaking her head. Her eyes grow soft as she reaches forward, curling her fingers around my arm. "I know you miss her."

Taking my arm back, I turn, heading back down the hallway towards my bedroom, "Not talking about it!"

The pink sheet of paper burns a hole in my hand; hidden from a silly girl who would cling to the hope it brings her. Swinging the wardrobe door open, I tack the newest lead up with the others. The only way to squash Elena's hope is to pretend I've lost all mine. Crushing every plot to go after Stefan is how I keep his girlfriend safe. Klaus needs to think she's dead, that he's won. The Stefan that we would find won't be someone Elena would be able to welcome back with open arms. He'll have switched his humanity off, let who he really is inside out. Maybe Diana will be the same. Hearing her voice in my head is the only thing giving me hope that she's not completely gone. "He moved onto Tennessee."

"Huh." Blondie comes out of the bathroom, her face covered in a thick layer of orange makeup. "That Florida victim you had me look into has family in Tennessee."

So far, this girl has proven to be quite useful. She's standoffish towards Elena, refusing to speak more than a handful of words to her. The job she has at the police station means she can get me access to information without raising suspicion. Maybe that's why I'm keeping her around. As long as she's useful, I'll keep her alive. "Which one, the Pensacola guy?"

"Uh-huh."

Nodding, I begin to get dressed, "You up for a road trip?"

"To help you look for an ex-girlfriend who you're still in love with?" The girl chuckles, giving me grin, "No can do. I have to work, but I can see if I can get you an address."

Always so willing to help. I wonder if she thinks that if she helps enough, I'll actually start to like her, "Please."

"See you at the party."

Yeah, like I'm actually going to that, "Get me that address."

As blondie leaves the room, I turn back to the leads tacked to the inside of my wardrobe door. Where are you Di?


	3. Fun

_"Look, I know you're dealing with your own shit, Diana, but—" Jeremy lets out a long sigh, the sound like thunder through the recorded message. "I'm seeing stuff, people—dead people. Vicki and Anna mostly. I just need to tell someone. Bonnie would just freak out. I need you, Diana. I need your help. If there's any way you can call. I swear, I won't tell Damon or Elena. I just don't know what to do." Another sigh and a hard swallow, "I miss you. I hope you're okay." _

I play the voicemail for the hundredth time, enjoying the familiar voice. Jeremy sounds scared, trapped in this world that he doesn't know how to navigate. Chewing my lip, I shove my phone back into my pocket as Klaus approaches. Although he's only forbidden phone calls, I'm not sure he'd be happy to know I've been listening to the phone messages I've gotten.

I should have never left. This was a foolish plan. It kills me to be away from Damon. It kills me to watch Stefan shrink further and further inside of himself. We're getting nowhere, finding no one with any information. I'm beginning to lose faith in Klaus.

"Boyfriend trouble?" His words cascade into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

Gathering myself, I turn, leaning my head against the vampire's shoulder, "Which one? The one you're desperately trying to turn into a ripper? The one that grows ever closer to finding out where we are? Or, the one who's seeing his dead ex-girlfriends?"

"Getting involved in their lives was a mistake, Diana," Klaus offers his warped advice.

Rolling my eyes, I take a step away from the man. He knows my affection is waning. Whoever said distance makes the heart grow founder never met Klaus. His charm no longer has the same effect, smooth words sounding more and more like the hissing of snakes. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Stefan. Leaving him alone with Klaus just seems cruel. Damon's brother is weak. The guilt Stefan has buried deep down inside for all these years, threatening to break through any day now, forced to the surface by Klaus's constant prying. "Getting involved in anyone's life but my own was a mistake, Klaus."

"Isn't it more fun this way?"

He's lost his mind completely, reason clouded by blind ambition. "What? Living out of a suitcase? Leaving a trail of bodies for Damon to follow? You better find your man fast or else you and Stefan will be riding it out together. Without me."

"Now, now," Klaus chides, "That isn't part of our deal."

"Compel them, Klaus. You don't need me."

The sandy-haired man before me frowns, fingers curling around my shoulder, "And where would you go? Back to him? Do you really think he'd take you back, Diana, after everything you've put him through? After running off with his brother?"

"No. I'd go to Bermuda or Madagascar. Those are the only two places left on earth that I haven't been to." With Damon at my side, I tack on silently. The oldest Salvatore brother and I have been through worse. We find our way back together, that's what makes our love story so special.

Klaus continues to pout, "Just another month, love. I'll buy you the grandest mansion you've ever seen."

As Stefan approaches, I look over my shoulder at him. "And the brothers?"

"Yours, just like we've always agreed to," Klaus confirms. "Are you ever going to settle on one?"

As Stefan draws near, I wrap my arms around him, resting my cheek against his chest. The vampire melts against me, his chin resting on the top of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. "Why pick one when I can have both?"

As Klaus saunters away, Stefan slides his lips next to my ear, his breath warm against my skin, "You're playing a very dangerous game, Diana."

"And what game is that, Stefan?" I twist away from the vampire, keeping my fingers curled between his.

Damon's brother grins at me, "He's only going to believe that your affection for me is real for so long."

"Who says it isn't real?"

Stefan narrows his eyes, staring straight into my soul. He's searching for resolution on a question he already knows the answer to. After a while, the vampire's features soften, his thumb beginning to gently rub over the skin of my wrist. "And Damon?"

"Everything I feel for you both is real, Stefan. It's always been real. I care for Damon and you equally. Damon will understand that for right now, you need me more."

I'm met with a smirk, "Who says?"

"I do," giving Stefan a wink, I follow the same path as Klaus up to the bar front door.

The air inside is smoky, blue lights casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Beer bottle tops litter the walkway, cheesy country music playing a tick too loud over the tatty speakers sitting on either side of a falling apart wooden stage. Klaus sits on a rickety barstool, chatting with a brunette male. This new character scratches at his patchy beard as Klaus further invades his personal space.

"I've got some vampire. I've got some wolf," Klaus explains to the man. This guy better be the key to finding the pack. I'm growing tired of false leads. Eventually, we need to find this group or try something new. Even as stubborn as he is, Klaus has to know this. He can only drag Stefan and me around the countryside for so long.

The man before Klaus scrunches his nose, eyes screwing together, "A what?"

"A hybrid, Ray," Klaus says proudly for once in his life. The vampire's condition has always been an embarrassment to his family. He now wears it as a medal of honor. It makes him different from the others. Anything to stand out from the gaggle of siblings he has is an accomplishment to Klaus. He hates and loves his family. Most times the scale tips more towards the direction of hate. "I'm both. You see, I want to create more of me. Now, you being the first werewolf I've come across in many moons, pun intended, Ray –" Klaus chuckles at his own bad joke "– I need you to direct me to your pack. So...where can I find them, Ray."

Klaus is practically sitting on the man's lap at this point, his hands on Ray's shoulders, "You can't compel me. It won't work."

Great, we've got a half-conscious one, just smart enough to keep things interesting, but not smart enough to back down before things get physical. It's going to get bloody before the end of the night.

Frustrated by the push back, Klaus motions for Stefan to join him. Like an overly obedient dog, Stefan trots over to Klaus, taking the sprig the vampire hands over.

"I need a scotch on the rocks, please," Stefan leans on the counter, giving the bartender a toothy smile. Once the drink is sat in front of him, Stefan turns to Ray, "Tell you what, Ray. We're going to play a little drinking game. Something I like to call truth or wolfsbane." I watch as Stefan takes the sprig Klaus gave him, crushing it over the glass. Little chunks of the plant bob up and down, coming to rest at the top of the brown liquid.

Klaus smiles evilly, "This is going to be fun, Ray."

Bored with their teasing, I walk over to Stefan, draping my arm over his shoulder, "Wouldn't this be easier if I just spelled him to do whatever we wanted?"

"You can do that?" Stefan gives me a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow.

I wink at the vampire, giving him a '_wouldn't you like to know_' smirk, "I can do whatever I want, Stefan."

"Is that so?" Damon's brother leans in closer, snaking an arm around my waist. He has a mischievous glint in his eyes, bottom lip captured between his teeth.

"Well," I roll my eyes, "mostly whatever I want." I poke Stefan in the chest with my finger, giving him a playful smile. "You are proving to be quite the challenge."

Stefan nods as if what I'm saying is the most interesting thing he's heard in months. His eyes flick from me back to Klaus who is now holding out the wolfsbane spiked scotch to Ray. "Why don't you just let him play his game? He's having fun."

"I'm bored, Stefan," I groan back, pouting. I knew this trip was never going to be glamorous. I'm only here to make sure Stefan doesn't fall completely over the edge. Despite having a task, I'm finding the constant big bad wolf complex Klaus has taken up to be grueling. "This is only fun for you two. I keep being made lookout."

Stefan's lips press into my ear, his fingers gently playing over the skin of my neck. His voice comes out in a husky whisper, "You could go home, Diana."

"No." I pull away from Stefan. He's tired, bags heavy under his usually ageless eyes. There's pain there, written in every line on the vampire's perfect features. I'm not leaving him, not until this is done and I know he'll be returned safely. "No. Let him have his fun."


	4. Post-it Notes

The farmhouse sits in the middle of a field, the afternoon sun glinting off the tin roof. Cigarette butts litter the gravel driveway, a few with Diana's signature red lipstick mark around the edge. Blondie was quick with the address, sending me a text not thirty minutes after getting to work. Leaving Elena safely behind in the protection of Caroline, Ric and I slipped away, chasing another lead that's been nothing but a dead end.

My cellphone chimes, the electronic beeping scaring off a flock of birds that gather in one of the many oaks that fill the home's front yard. Elena's name scrolls across the screen. I let it ring twice before hanging up. Whatever crisis she's having back at home can wait. I need to be sure that this incident was Stefan.

"Elena?" Ric enquires as we walk up the drive towards a falling apart front porch. The stairs whine as we climb them, door screeching as it's moved. "I don't know why you just don't come clean and tell her where we are."

Sighing, I wander through the hallway. Blood coats the walls, finger tracks forever staining the yellowing wallpaper. This looks like something you'd see on one of those made for TV horror shows. The ones where they paint the killer as a mildly attractive guy that no one had any idea dismembered and ate half the neighborhood. "Cause my new pet said this was a half-lead and I don't want to get her hopes up."

"Yeah, well, they're all half-leads," Alaric answers, glancing around the house, careful to step over the bloody shoe prints that have dried on the floor. "And I'm your accomplice. What do you want me to say to her? I'm practically living there."

Since Jenna met her untimely end, Ric's taken up residence at the Gilbert house. He's drunk most of the time, but he does make sure Elena and Jeremy are eating and still going to school. He's also been informing me of any information Elena drags up, well, at least what he can remember of it. Jenna's death hit him hard. I figure helping me track down and possibly kill the man who orchestrated it will have him feeling like a new man. "Still sleeping on the couch?"

"You know, I keep waiting for them to kick me out, but they don't. I don't know why. It's not like I'm helping or anything."

I've heard it all before, the confusion, the guilt. Alaric is tearing himself up inside, trying to figure out why two teenagers need an adult in their lives. He can't look at either one without feeling some responsibility for the pain they're feeling. I don't want to get into it today. "Mm-hmm."

"It's quiet." He needs the conversation. It keeps him from losing it completely. I get it. That's why I keep the girls around, someone to talk to, to chase away the never-ending thoughts. What could I have done differently? I should have seen this coming. Katherine tried to warn me. Could I have stopped Diana from going down this road? Sometimes it's all just too much.

"Yeah. Too quiet."

The living room carpet is soaked with blood, squishing under the weight of Ric and my shoes. Two females sit on the couch, hands pressed onto jean-covered thighs. Each has a jagged cut around their necks, dried blood leaving a kind of necklace effect. Their heads have been set neatly back on their shoulders, eyes forever staring at the blood-smeared wall across from them. The local cops would have a field day with this. This kind of killing makes a town famous, scared, but not scared enough to keep it quiet. "This is Stefan for sure."

"How do you know?" Ric's seen enough in his time as a vampire hunter to not be phased by the scene in front of him.

I point towards the way the heads are situated, "It's his signature. There's a reason they call him the ripper. He feeds so hard he blacks out, rips them apart. But then when he's done, he feels remorse. It's the damndest thing." I nudge the girl on the right with the toe of my boot. Her head teeters for a few seconds before falling into her lap, hitting the floor with a soft thunk. "He puts the bodies back together."

"Back together?" Alaric stares down at the dead female's head, it's glassy eyes looking back up at him. At least she gets a change of scenery.

Nodding, I continue through the house. "Definitely Stefan."

"Any signs the others were here?" Ric asks as we enter the kitchen.

I shrug, pulling open cabinets, checking for clues. "Klaus is probably having Stefan do all the killing to keep the ripper alive."

"Diana?"

Shaking my head, I pull open the freezer door. "She doesn't do calling cards." There it is, the offensive, neon pink sticky note. I've found one at every single house or hotel we've searched. It's her way of saying that despite all the other feelings involved, she's enjoying this. It's Diana's way of saying that she knows I'm looking and that I'm on the right path. Grabbing the paper, I crumple it in my fist, shoving it deep in my pocket. I don't know if I should love or hate this little game we're playing.

"You sure?"

I ignore Ric's question, perching on the kitchen table, "She always wanted a house like this—" My fingers run over the small lump that is now weighing me down. My heart rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. "—Well, without the blood and the cliché country décor. She liked the big porches and the woods all around, old dirt roads. We almost got one, in upstate New York, right on a pond. There was a great little camping spot about five miles away."

"What happened?"

Shrugging I stand, suddenly the air feels too thick, the room too small. The sticky note in my pocket, once a glimmer of hope begins to burn a hole in my skin, trying to get to and destroy the last few shreds of humanity I still have left. "It all got too real. She skipped town, left a note saying something about being ready someday."

"It seems like not much has changed."

No. I refuse to believe that. Diana and I have come so far, gone through more than anyone should have to. We're strong and one day we're going to have the life we've dreamed of. "I think she's protecting Stefan."

"Maybe," Alaric answers with a shrug, not believing my words.

Getting up, I wander towards the back of the house, pulling doors open as I do. Once I've found the one that leads to the garage, I begin to search for the red gasoline containers every redneck in this part of the world seems to keep. Quite convenient really. It'd looked so suspicious if we had to go out and get these bad boys ourselves. "I just want to find her."

"What are you doing?" Ric questions, as I begin my way back through the house, spreading the liquid around, making sure to coat the walls and the floors. I empty out the last container over Stefan's newest victims.

"Covering their tracks. Clearly, they have no interest in staying in the dark. But I do." As Alaric steps backward, the floor creaks, echoing out for a few seconds. Curious, I set the gas canister down, pushing the rug up. A rusted hinge reveals an otherwise hidden door. Yanking it open, I shove my head through. The walls are lined with chains that have been secured to the walls with sturdy-looking metal attachments. Chuckling, I pull my head out, allowing Ric to have a look. "Well, what do you know? Werewolves."

Letting the door fall back into place, I strike a match against the mantel of the fireplace. The flame dances for a minute, pulling this way and that as if trying to decide what section of gasoline to devour first. Taking one last look around, I let the match hit the floor. Just another dead end.


End file.
